Perhaps you've heard of Andersonburg, the old western Pennsylvania town, the like

Roanoke before it, suffered a mysterious end and left no accounted survivors to enlighten

anyone as to the details of its fate.

Luckily, that may no longer be the case.

I've joined a university funded expedition here and have been tasked with collecting items

of value that can hopefully assist in our search for knowledge pertaining to the curious

fate of the city.

After some exhausting work, I did indeed come across a diary that is by far the most

informative document yet unearthed.

I'll check the contents for veracity at a later date.

For now, here are the most relevant excerpts for anyone interested.

The 3rd of April, 1829.

Another man caught the fever, this time down at the lumber camp.

From what I hear, the poor bastard was tying down the logs when he just up and fell right

over into the river, almost drowned, I heard.

And when the others got to him, Matthew and Thomas in the lot, they said his face had gone

pale as a cloud and that he was shaken and sweating and coughing.

Ain't no mistake in that for nothing but the early signs of the fever, so they hauled

the poor fellow out and gave him a canteen and had him rest.

But then, without telling him, they struck camp and left him there.

I'm not sure what came of him, but everyone knows the mayor's rule.

None struck with fever are permitted to return to Andersonburg.

...